


Pure Imagination

by RavenReyesWrites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Characters, Alternate Universe, Angst, Comfort, Crying, Disability, Established Relationship, Feelings, Feels, Hospital, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, KenAka, M/M, Medical, akaashi and kenma, akaken, listen to the song pure imagination by flannel graph while reading, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:42:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenReyesWrites/pseuds/RavenReyesWrites
Summary: Keiji sighed before holding Kenma’s un-IV’ed hand, seeing the needle marks on them surrounded by healing bruises. “Are you nervous?”“No,” he replied almost immediately as he gazed at their joined hands. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life. I’m excited. I’m thrilled. I’m ready to be normal.”
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji/Kozume Kenma
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	Pure Imagination

_Come with me and you'll be_

_In a world of pure imagination_

_Take a look and you'll see_

_Into your imagination_

  
  
  


Keiji looked up from the Internal Medicine textbook he has been studying for hours as the cardiac monitor’s alarm blared in the otherwise silent room. He paused for a few seconds, his eyes on the blinking red lights on the monitor as he waited for it to stop. A few more moments later and the irritating noise finally subsided and it was replaced by the rhythmic beeping. Now _that_ is a sound he’s used to. He let out a small sigh before looking back down on his book, 

“Sorry,” a voice croaked, making Keiji look at the previously sleeping form of his boyfriend. “Must have pulled the cables too much.”

“You were asleep, Kenma. It’s a machine error.”

Kenma hummed at his position on the bed, groaning as he slowly lied on his back while making sure none of the wires attached to his frail body were trapped. He had counted eleven wires; six for each electrode attached to his chest, three for his IV line and drips (which were connected to the trifuse attached to his left hand), one for the pulse oximeter on his right pointer finger, and one for the thermometer taped on his armpit. 

It was overwhelming to see such lines criss-crossing over each other from their respective machine, equipment, and medicine bottle and into Kenma, but considering that this scenario has been an annual thing since he was born 24 years ago, he’s no stranger to it anymore. He couldn’t really say the same for Keiji, but since he had been there for the last 6 years, not to mention he is already in his third year in med school, he must have gotten used to it.

“Sorry it disturbed you,” he apologized still, but his eyes were on the infusion pumps regulating the amount of medicines that enters his body, making him feel stronger than his body actually is.

“It’s no trouble. You should rest. You’ll need every second of sleep you’ll get today,” Keiji said as he stood up, putting his hands on the cold siderails of Kenma’s bed. “Tomorrow’s the day.”

“Tomorrow’s the day indeed.”

Keiji sighed before holding Kenma’s un-IV’ed hand, seeing the needle marks on them surrounded by healing bruises. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” he replied almost immediately as he gazed at their joined hands. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life. I’m _excited._ I’m _thrilled._ I’m ready to be normal.”

If anyone else had heard Kenma say those lines, they would have admired him for his optimism, for his strength. After all, everyone knows about his condition and how he had refused to let it define him. He went to a regular school, had friends, hell, he even played volleyball back in high school. It was dangerous, all of it. Because one wrong move and he would have succumbed to his illness.

Being born a premature child, whilst a miracle in itself, Kenma did not only have way bigger pre-purchased baby clothes to fit his still developing body, but also he was _blessed_ with a myriad of health problems: apnea of prematurity, neonatal infection, newborn jaundice, to name a few. He had miraculously survived all of them in his two-month stay in the neonatal ICU, but what he took home with him, and continued to carry on until the present day, is the way his heart muscles were too thick for them to function properly. 

Medical experts call the condition hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Kenma calls it his curse.

“It’s okay to be nervous. I am nervous, and I’m not even the one who’s gonna go under the knife,” Keiji said. Kenma chuckled as he raised their joined hands up to his chapped pale lips and kissed Keiji’s knuckle.

“Worry about your exam tomorrow. I’ll be okay. I waited for this… I wanted this new heart since I found out I was dying. I’d be damned if I die while getting it.”

He winced at the word, unconsciously gripping Kenma’s hand a little too tightly. A chuckle bubbled up Kenma’s throat as he tugged on his hand. “Hey now, I got this. Trust me, okay? I’ll get out of that operating room alive and kicking.”

“Technically, you’d still be groggy from the anesthesia and you’ll be bandaged up, so yes to you getting out alive, but no kicking yet ‘cause you’re… drugged up.”

Another chuckle escaped Kenma’s lips. That’s one of the things he liked best about Keiji; he’s funny even when he wasn’t even trying. He doesn’t think he knows he was being funny anyway either.

“That sounds so morbid, but I cannot wait ‘til I’m drugged up but with a whole new _healthy_ heart.”

A comfortable silence followed Keiji’s nod, the beeping on the monitor, which mirrored Kenma’s rhythmic (for once) heartbeat got louder. That made him clear his throat as he slowly sat up on the bed. “Help me up. Out of the bed.”

“You’re not even supposed to sit on the bed’s edge, Kenma,” he scolded gently, frowning a little which Kenma immediately copied. 

“My butt hurts. I’m pretty sure there’s an ulcer there now. Let me up. _Please_ ,” he pleaded, holding his hand with both hands, and the sight of the cables moving at the action made Keiji sigh.

“Fine, but only for five minutes.”

Keiji unlocked the siderail before slowly and gently pulling Kenma up. He made sure all cables and tubes were intact as Kenma sat and dangled his legs first, something he always does to aid the circulation in his body. A few more sways of his legs and he nodded, holding unto Keiji’s shoulder as he stood up, closing his eyes as he _felt_ a shift inside. It was like a wave, a subtle movement that started from his chest and slowly enveloped his torso until it became a dizzying static in his head. His heart’s having trouble keeping up with his position change, but Keiji was there to keep him upright.

“Yeah, this one’s bad,” Kenma chuckled as he held on Keiji’s waist instead, resting his temple on his chest as Keiji rubbed his back. “And no, I’m not lying back down.”

“Yeah, I know. But you have to take it easy.”

“Yes, future doctor,” Kenma teased before slowly standing upright and looking up to his boyfriend. “Better now.”

Keiji pulled on some of the tubes to give Kenma more moving space before meeting his gaze. “What do you wanna do?”

_Ahh_ , there they are, his favorite pair of orbs. Despite being together for six years now, he can still never discern what color Keiji’s eyes are. Most of the time, they were blue, but there are times, under certain lightings, like that afternoon’s sunset for example, they appear as deep green. He smiled up to him, leaning up a little to rest his lips on his for a second before whispering, “Can we slow dance?” 

  
  


_We'll begin with a spin_

_Traveling in a world of my creation_

_What we'll see will defy_

_Explanation_

Keiji somehow couldn’t say no to Kenma’s _unusual_ request, and so he didn’t. He didn’t even question it. He widened his stance and slowly swayed them to the right, then to the left, then back to the right. He’s not a bad dancer; he thinks he doesn’t qualify to be called as such for he doesn’t really dance that much, so he’s neither bad nor good. They’re not really dancing anyway; they’re just _swaying._ After all, that’s all they could really do.

A silent minute passed with them just moving from side to side, and as the orange hue outside the window grew deeper, Keiji couldn’t help but let out a deep nervous breath.

“Can you do three things for me tomorrow?” Kenma whispered against his chest, breaking the silence and his troubled thoughts. 

“Hm? What do you want me to do?”

Kenma pulled back a little, his arms still wrapped around his waist. “First, don’t accompany me to the OR. I’m supposed to be wheeled in while you’re still at school. I don’t want you rushing your exam just to see me enter a room I’m gonna come out of anyway.”

There was already an argument at the tip of his tongue, but Keiji remained silent. If the rest of Kenma’s request would be as _absurd_ as the first one, he’ll just complain about them all at once.

“Second, listen to one single song on loop while waiting for the operation to be done. It’s Pure Imagination by Flannel Graph. No other song. Just that.”

He knows the song, but he had never heard of that version. He nodded, making a mental note of downloading it in his phone and charging his wireless headphone.if he’s gonna listen to one song for six hours straight, then he’ll need a comfortable earpiece.

“And the third, well, it depends on whether I die there or if I somehow live,” Kenma paused, chuckling lightly at the Keiji’s furrowed brows. “Ji, me dying tomorrow is not impossible. You heard what the doctor said about this being a risky operation. You’re a junior clerk, you know how this goes.”

As much as he hated it, he nodded. He remembered how Kenma’s parents cried when they were being apprised of the procedure, how they found out that, although a heart transplant itself has an 85% survival rate, there will be expected problems during Kenma’s surgery since his body had been relying on his dysfunctional heart for over two decades already. The damage is extensive, and one can only hope that he won’t arrest at least once on the table.

“What’s the third one?”

“Well, if I die, please take my ashes to the Pacific Ocean. I read this story of a guy who died and his wife spread his ashes to the sea. I’ve always found it cute. I mean, yeah, you died, but like you have a vast ocean to explore,” Kenma said with a small chuckle but he was cut off by his own cough, making Keiji rub his back. He must have ran out of breath trying to say all those words out. A few more seconds passed with Keiji not saying anything, so Kenma looked up at him expectantly.

“That’s frowned upon due to health reasons but, I’ll see what I can do.”

That gouged out a smile from Kenma. Oh how he loves _this_ Keiji; this lenient, “yes to everything you want, Kenma, because you’re dying” side of him never fails to make him happy.

“And if I live, well, you should totally marry me.”

“Is this your way of finally proposing to me? Because my answer is y--”

“ _No_ , I’m not taking any answer right now. Wait until I’m out of the OR and waking up from whatever drug they give me. Only then will I acknowledge your yes or no.”

Keiji sighed, thinking how bold Kenma would be to think that his answer would be the latter. “Is that all?”

Kenma took a few seconds to reply as he laid the side of his head on Keiji’s chest, his eyes on the tree outside the window draped with the darkening orange hue of the sunset. He started swaying in place again, making the bespectacled guy follow through. The machines somehow stayed quiet, and Keiji let out a small smile as he noticed Kenma’s slowly increasing heart rate as reflected by the beeping cardiac monitor. It wasn’t the bad kind of increase; this one’s okay. Kenma was just excited, happy, content. 

“And this, with you.”

  
  


_If you want to view paradise_

_Simply look around and view it_

_Anything you want to, do it_

  
  


Keiji could barely focus on his notes as he did some last minute run through of the exam’s topics. He was sitting by the windowsill of his classroom, drowning the noise from his classmates with the song playing in his headphones. _Pure Imagination_ has been on loop since he left Kenma’s hospital room earlier that morning. 

There were tears threatening to fall down his face as he laid a kiss on Kenma’s forehead, telling him that he expects a drugged up version of him congratulating him for topping another exam later that day. 

Kenma’s parents just looked on, but they weren’t as good as him in hiding their emotions. Their eyes were puffy from nonstop crying and they barely ate breakfast, making Keiji eat the food they brought from home as Kenma wasn’t allowed to eat nor drink.

He really couldn’t blame them. They could lose their only child today; they’re allowed to cry. He would have joined them and finally let out all the emotions he had been holding in for the last six years (in front of Kenma at least) but someone has to be strong for them all. Obviously, Kenma can’t. His parents are out of the question, so that just leaves _him._

He squeezed Kenma’s hand one last time and whispered a soft “I love you” before making his way out. He was surprised when Kenma’s parents followed him but offered them a smile nonetheless as the door closed behind them. But as soon as his cheekbones rose when he did, his tears finally fell, and that did a domino effect as he heaved out a heavy breath and collapsed against the wall. He can feel his chest tightening as he struggles to keep his breathing in check, his tears now falling freely as if a full dam has been opened in him. 

He choked out a sob, then another, and another _louder_ one before Kenma’s mother enveloped him in a comforting hug as his father laid a supporting hand on his shoulder. So _that’s_ why they followed him out. 

He was there for them during the hardest moment in their lives concerning Kenma, and now they are there when the supposedly composed Keiji finally breaks down. He held on almost desperately to his mother, his breathing fast as the heavy book bag fell from his shoulder to the floor. He has a major examination in an hour, but he almost couldn’t care less. At all.

He just laid what would possibly be his last kiss on Kenma while he’s still alive. The thought hasn’t sunk in yet, but the thought of doing _anything_ for the last time to his boyfriend, his _partner_ , that’s something that isn’t nice to even think about.

Eventually, he had gathered himself, wiping his face with the handkerchief Kenma’s father offered as he picked up the book from the floor. He gave them a watery smile, nodding at their comforting words, even though all he could hear was a buzzing sound as he watched their moving lips. He felt bad for it, but if he’s being honest, his mind couldn’t really take in anything else.

He was brought back to reality when their preceptor arrived, making the students settle down in their seats as they prepared for their exam. He did the same, wiping the tears forming in his eyes with his hanky and focused his attention on the Scantron form on his desk. He let out a steadying breath before opening the test booklet, pushing all thoughts about Kenma at the back of his head.

After all, he needs to top this exam. He needs to flex that to Kenma later on in his postop state.  
  


_Want to change the world?_

_There's nothing to it_

_There is no life I know_

_That compares to pure imagination_

Kenma stared up the ceiling of the well-lit operating table. He had just been transferred on the operating table and his first thought was how uncomfortable and _cold_ it was. _‘This feels like a morgue table,’_ he morbidly thought to himself. His eyes darted to the three big surgical lights as the nurses adjusted them to focus on him. He raised his un-IV’ed hand and laid it on his chest to where his heart would be. 

If things go as planned, this will be his last hour, his last minute with it.

But if the worst comes to worst, this will be _his_ last hour, his last minute on earth.

He let out a sigh, finally feeling the nervousness he has been trying to ignore for the longest time. It quickly turned into a semi pant that one of the scrub nurses leaned closer to him to ask if he needed anything.

“I’m okay. I mean I’m not because this is like… a matter of life and death but… yeah. Just preop jitters,” he said with a small chuckle which the nurses returned. But what didn’t escape his eyes was the way they wistfully looked at him before they turned to his surgeon who had just finished gowning.

“Kenma, today’s the day,” Dr. Nekomata greeted him, and if he wasn’t wearing a green mask, he knew he would be smiling down at him. “I’ve done this surgery a hell lot of times before, but not all heart surgeries are the same. This one can be tricky, something out of our control can happen, we might even lose you multiple times on the table. But what I can say for sure is that I, with this team, will take care of you and will do our best to wheel you out of here with a new, healthy heart.”

That was all Kenma needed to hear. He had always admired Dr. Nekomata for his no bullshit approach of talking to his patients. It was a blessing, being treated by him since birth, because he had helped him come to terms with his illness, and he had inspired him to want to live.

“Thank you. I’m trusting you all with my life here. Literally and figuratively,” he said, eliciting laughter from the nine people inside. He smiled one last time at his surgeon before training his eyes back to the ceiling just as Dr. Nekomata nodded at his anesthesiologist. Dr. Yameji then slowly pushed the cocktail of medicines in his IV line, and Kenma’s last thought was how Keiji forgot to bring his lunchbox earlier.

  
  


_Living there, you'll be free_

_If you truly wish to be_

_If you want to view paradise_

Alisa Haiba has taken care of Kenma during this admission, and it so happened that she was on the AM shift during his scheduled operation. And, as if directed by the Gods himself, the OR needed a floater from the cardiac ward because they have tons of back to back surgeries. Upon knowing she will be scrubbing in to Kenma’s surgery, she didn’t hesitate in agreeing to the nursing supervisor’s plea. 

Normally, she hates it when she’s being pulled out, but this one’s different. This one is important. This one _matters._

Being a floater, she was assigned to the back table who is in charge of the emergency medicines and extra instruments that could be used during the surgery. If the surgery goes well, she doesn’t have to do anything else as the primary scrub nurse in front will have it all covered.

But if a surgical emergency, like this one wherein Kenma’s blood pressure dropped way too low when they tried to see if the newly attached heart works, Alisa would be withdrawing one medicine after another in syringes and handing them to the surgeon who immediately pushes it to the patient.

That is exactly what is happening as she watches Dr. Nekomata inject the drug into Kenma’s IV port. Alisa could feel her heart hammering against her chest, but she focused on opening more medicine ampules and not on the blaring alarms on the monitor. She cannot be distracted by the thought that Kenma is currently _dying_ on the table

There was way too much blood in Kenma’s chest cavity and although Dr. Kuroo, a surgical resident, was more than efficient in suctioning it to provide Dr. Nekomata a clear view of his organs, the blood loss was getting too alarming. Next thing she knew, Alisa was yelling at the circulating nurse for more O-neg blood units, hanging them on an IV pole as each one arrived and putting the lines on full blast in desperate effort of replenishing Kenma’s depleting blood volume.

“Kenma, fight,” she whispered as her eyes darted from the monitors, to the doctors moving fast, and to the circulating nurse getting out of the theater to get more supplies. “Damn it, Kenma, you need to fight.”

Alisa was too absorbed in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear it the first time the surgeon requested for the heart paddles. Kiyoko, the main scrub nurse, had to call her from her position in front so she would wake up from whatever trance she was on. She nodded, an apology ready in her mind for that short lapse, before handing the paddles to Dr. Nekomata.

“Charge to 15 joules please,” Dr. Nekomata said in his surprisingly calm voice. Alisa turned the dial and after three all clears, he delivered the charge directly to Kenma’s newly transplanted heart. 

He cursed under his breath as the dysrhythmia on the cardiac monitor was replaced by a flatline leaving Dr. Nekomata with no other choice other than to manually massage the heart with his own hand. If anyone looks at them from the outside, they would look like a composed surgical team completing a simple operation, but the reality was everyone’s on edge as they did their best to make Kenma’s heart to start beating normally.

And it should beat again, Alisa thought. Kenma has no right to die. He has a new heart now, damn it. They need to make this heart beat. They need to transfuse more units into him. They need to revive him damn it.

From her position at the back table, there is no way she can see Kenma’s face. But as she closed her eyes as another charge was delivered to his heart, she can vividly imagine his serene face. Well, he has a tube down his throat to help him breathe while being knocked out cold by the anesthetics and the team was doing their best to restart his heart with their ministrations in his open chest cavity, but she can still imagine how _calm_ he must look right now.

And the thought, despite it being just it, a _thought_ , gave her a sense of comfort. He is on the brink of death, but Alisa chose to focus on that idea of solace.

_Simply look around and view it_

_Anything you want to, do it_

_Want to change the world?_

_There's nothing to it_

Keiji sighed as _Pure Imagination_ played for the nth time in his headphones. As patient as he is as a person, he was slowly getting sick of it. Who wouldn’t anyway, when it has been on loop since that morning until noon, with only one hour and a half break when he took his exam. He won’t deny the fact, though, that it was a good song. It was unlike the songs he and Kenma usually listen to, but somehow, no song can be as appropriate to be played as this one while he was waiting for Kenma’s operation to be over. It was already 12 PM, five hours since the operation started and still, he was still yet to be wheeled out. He managed to convince Kenma’s parents to catch some sleep in the room instead of nervously pacing for hours. He also wanted to rest, but as expected, his mind wouldn’t calm down. 

He had gone up to the Intensive Care Unit and peeked into the cube where Kenma will be monitored postop. The room was small, the walls were white, almost _too_ white for his taste, and there were monitoring equipment on either side of the bed. Kenma will be alone in there for the next few days as visitors are not alone inside the ICU, but looking at the team of nurses and doctors inside looking at the monitors all the time managed to put him at ease.

After that, he went back to the second floor where the operating room was, but after listening to two more replays of the song, he stood up again and let his feet lead him to wherever they wanted him to be. A few turns later and he found himself standing in front of the hospital’s chapel. He swallowed, feeling guilt wave through his body as he looked at the cross in front. He was never religious, but somehow, he _understood_ why he was led there.

He took a seat on the last pew, joining his hands in between his semi-parted thighs. He felt weird sitting there still wearing his school uniform and with headphones on, but he was too tired to change and he promised to continue listening to the song _regardless._ He let his eyes wander on the indoor plants, the small credence table, and lastly, back to the cross. And then, there was peace in him.

His mind went back to the time when he asked Kenma out in that gentle voice of his. He thought Kenma didn’t hear it because he continued shooting zombies on the arcade game he was playing, but when Keiji was about to leave, Kenma reached for his hand and gave him a grin before telling him his impatience will get him nowhere. And that yes, he agrees to going out with him.

That one date led to more ones, and Keiji, with his almost photographic memory, could remember each one of them. He remembers visiting new places with him, doing new activities for the first time together, the food they tried and the ones they liked and hated. He let out a small smile, recalling Kenma’s face when he said he loved the Korean rice cake. It was the first time they disagreed on a dish, and he recalled kissing Kenma’s frown away.

The happy moments had corresponding bad ones, and his mind bitterly reminded him of the number of ER visits they had to do during the ungodliest times. There were a lot of close calls as well, but he was glad that Kenma always, _always_ , manages to have himself discharged after weeks of confinement. Sure, there were a lot of adjustments, including Kenma dropping out of college as Keiji was just entering med school, but they managed to survive all of them.

There were times when he got frustrated; at Kenma when he refuses to eat and take his medications because he hated feeling nauseated after, at himself for yelling at him that one time when he refused to turn off his game when he was supposed to be resting, and at Kenma’s illness for the _hell_ Kenma was in since birth because of it. But as he came to think of it, its silver lining came in the form of a strong Kenma whom he was head over heels for.

He sighed, swallowing as tears welled up in his eyes once again. This time though, he didn’t bother wiping them away. His solitude brought him the kind of reassuring comfort that for once, he could cry and not feel bad. He was worried, he was scared out of his wits, he was anxious about everything. The only limit he imposed on himself at that moment was thinking of ‘ _what if Kenma dies_ ’ thoughts. He cannot let his mind wander that much because he knew the places it could reach.

Before his thoughts got too overwhelming, he slid off his seat and knelt, resting his forearms on the backrest of the seat in front of him. And for the first time in a long time, Keiji prayed.

He talked to God about his frustrations, his regrets, and finally his wish. His face was as calm as it always looked, a complete opposite to the chaos his mind was in as he talked to God about Kenma.

Unknown to him, Dr. Nekomata was having the same troubled thoughts as he was slowly (and woefully) starting to lose all hope of reviving Kenma.

_There is no life I know_

_That compares to pure imagination_

Keiji sighed in relief as the boatman finally released the anchor of his fishing vessel to the sea. He gave him a grateful smile as he slowly stood up and made his way to the boat’s bow. Months of planning to go to the Philippines has finally been brought to fruition but he didn’t expect the country to be this hot. The summer heat was slowly getting to him, and if it wasn’t for the _monstrous_ amount of sunblock he applied before embarking the said boat, he would have been _fried_ by now. He overheard the driver talking to his crewmates in their native language, and as curious as he was to what they were laughing about, he has something more important to do.

The boatman has told him that this is the farthest they could reach in the Philippine Sea, the marginal sea of the western part of the Pacific Ocean. He looked back, and the island of Leyte, as gigantic as it looked earlier, now appeared tiny by the horizon.

This is far enough. This is good enough.

He slowly sat on the bow, scared that the strong wind would simply make him lose his balance and make him fall to the ocean. He was nervous, considering that balance isn’t really his strongest suit. Still, he managed to sit with the marble container safely cradled in his thighs. 

He let a few moments pass by, letting his eyes wander over the vast ocean and to the white caps forming on the occasional waves. There were birds overhead chirping as they flew over their boat, and he swore he saw a school of fish swim near him. The combination of them all made him smile. This was the most peaceful he has felt in months.

Slowly, he opened the lid of the marble jar and just as he was to reach into it, his companion _finally_ made his presence known by putting his hand on his shoulder.

“I told you to wait for me before feeding the fish,” the cold but soft voice said. “You didn’t even bother helping me wear my lifevest.”

Keiji looked back at Kenma with a childish grin as he helped him sit beside him, their legs dangling off the edge. “I’m sorry. I was too excited.”

“Yeah, _obviously_ ,” Kenma deadpanned with a roll of his eyes as he stole the marble fish food container from Keiji and took some earthworms. “This is gross.”

“ _That_ is a healthy source of protein for the fish, Kenma. Now if you’re just gonna bash it, give the jar back to me as I have creatures to feed.”

“This is lame. We could have been wakeboarding, or… or scuba diving, hell, we could be jet-skiing right now. Fish-feeding, Keiji? Really?”

“You’re not supposed to do anything stressful. How many times do we have to talk about that?” Keiji asked as he threw a worm to the ocean, smiling when a foot-long fish immediately took it in his mouth.

“I can’t believe I married the most boring man in the entire universe. I have a heart three times stronger than yours. What could go wrong?”

Keiji squinted his eyes at him before pointing a finger at him, the silver band on his ring finger shining under the intense heat of the sun.

“Shut up. This is important to me.”

“Whatever. If I fall into the water, I’m pulling you down with me.”

“You’re being a brat.”

“You’re being _boring.”_

And as Keiji turned his body to Kenma to berate him, his argument died in his throat when he finally _looked_ at his husband. Gone is the ghastly pale complexion he was so used to Kenma having. His lips were red and full. His cheeks were slowly turning red from the heat. The exposed seven-inch scar over his breast bone was healing well eight months after his operation.

And suddenly, he didn’t want to fight anymore. He could remember his sixteen-year old self dreaming of a sight like this, of Kenma looking healthy and _alive_ , and he would be damned if he fulfills said dream while fighting with him over a fish feeding activity.

  
  


_Living there, you'll be free_

_If you truly wish to be_

_If you truly wish to be_

**Author's Note:**

> To Kris, 
> 
> Para sa'yo 'to.
> 
> Salamat.
> 
> Mahal kita.
> 
> From Ken.


End file.
